Page 34 of Dangerous King (Savage Kings of New York #2)

The dining room is full of laughter. Forks clink against plates, wine flows freely, and chairs scrape as people lean in, toss napkins, and trade jokes like cards in a long-lost game I've forgotten how to play.

Everyone's here.

Sabine and Nico are arguing over who used to steal cookies from Zia Nina's pantry. My mother is glowing with maternal adrenaline, fussing over whether my father had enough of the lamb. Lucas is trying to explain to Eliza why putting lemon on roasted potatoes is a crime against Sicilian culture.

And I'm here. Sitting between the people I love. Smiling. And aching inside. I'm happy. I am .

But I'm also so overwhelmed. Like my body is filled with electricity, and no one's grounded the wire. The voices are too loud, the warmth too much. Like I'm wrapped in a heavy blanket I begged for, but now I can't breathe under the weight of it. I should be fine.

I should be.

But after years of silence and being forgotten in corners, this much attention feels like a spotlight. It's too bright. Too focused. Too everything. My ears are ringing, my stomach is in knots, my jaw hurts from smiling too much, and most of all, I have this overwhelming desire to run.

Enrico still isn't here. Maybe if he were, I would feel more grounded.

Mattheo arrived just before dinner, all swagger and quiet calculation, kissing his sister's cheek and offering my mother a bouquet that looked like it came from a royal florist. He's everything I imagined one of the Sartori brothers would be.

Sharp, observant, and careful. He apologized for missing their arrival and said how happy he is that they're here.

He did all the right things, but he's not him.

Not the one I want to see walking through that door.

Not the one whose voice makes my knees forget their purpose.

I push my food around my plate like a petulant child.

I feel like one, too. This should be the happiest day of my life.

Instead, my blood is pounding in my ears, filling them with a strange rushing sound that threatens to drown everything else out.

Nico raises his glass, and I have to really focus to hear his words. "Remember that time Cat fell into the pond trying to impress Lucas with her very serious ballet moves?"

Laughter breaks across the table.

I blink. My mouth curves, but it's stiff. I… don't remember that, not even a flash. Lucas grins at me, and Mamma tilts her head, dabbing at a tear in the corner of her eye.

Hoping to find an out, I look across the table. Sabine is smiling, but it feels—off. Like she's trying too hard, too. When our eyes lock, she holds the moment just a second too long before looking away. I should say something, do something, but I don't know what.

Helplessly, I glance at Izzy, who doesn't say anything. She just gives me a subtle wink and a small smile. It's enough to lose some of the tension in my neck. I feel seen .

"Excuse me," I say softly, standing. "Shadow's still with Julio. I promised I'd get him before it gets too late."

No one stops me. A few voices murmur assent. My mother tells me to bring him in to sit with us. Nico jokes that he'll save dessert for the furry monster . I slip out of the room, closing the double doors behind me.

The moment the noise is gone, the silence is immediate and total. I press my back against one of the marble pillars and take a deep breath in. And out.

A tear rolls down my cheek, and my voice is low when I admit, "Too much."

It takes a few moments for me to catch my bearings before the humming in my head retreats, and only a slight ringing is left.

Out here, I feel like I can breathe again.

The heavy vise grip that's sat around my chest during dinner has disappeared too.

I push thoughts of what the hell is wrong with me away, unable to deal with that guilt right now.

I haven't seen my family in years, and now that they're here, all I want is to escape.

No, that's not entirely true. I close my eyes, press my palm to the cool stone behind me, and let myself breathe.

I am happy they're here. I missed them so much it hollowed me out.

But right now, just knowing they're in the other room—laughing, living, together —it's enough.

I love them. More than they probably understand.

But I need this sliver of silence, this pocket of stillness, more than I need to be in that room.

Being with them hurts. Every part of me, physically and emotionally. So I let myself step back, just for a little bit. And I tell myself: They're here.

That's enough—for now.

I give myself a few more moments to gather myself before I walk briskly toward the dog kennels, from where soft music lures me forward.

The old barn doors are wide open when I approach.

Light spills across the inside, warm and golden, and the sound of old Italian music filters out like an invitation.

Julio looks up from grooming one of the dogs. Dexter, I think, who takes the opportunity to run off. Julio mutters a low curse before he looks up at me. "You survived dinner."

"Barely," I murmur.

He smiles, it's dry but not unkind, and sets the brush he was using aside. "Your mutt's in the back room. Healing like a champ."

"He didn't give you any trouble?" I ask, stepping inside.

Julio shrugs with practiced nonchalance. "We've come to… an understanding."

Just then, a blur of fur and paws barrels into me.

"Shadow—hey, hey—easy!" I laugh, crouching as the puppy wiggles and licks and circles me like I've been gone for a week instead of a few hours.

Julio chuckles from the doorframe. "See? Told you. We made friends."

But just as he says it, Shadow turns, squares his little stance, and lets out a low, suspicious growl directly at Julio.

I glance up at him, biting back a smile. "Friends, huh?"

Julio holds up both hands. "Selective loyalty. I can respect that."

I scoop up Shadow's leash, give Julio a polite nod, and say, "Thanks again for looking after him."

"Anytime, principessa," he replies with a wink. "Try not to let him chase any ducks tonight."

Sternly, I look at him. "You promised we wouldn't talk about the duck incident ever again." Last night, Shadow almost got hold of one of Eliza's precious ducks. There were a lot of feathers and ugly squawking, but thankfully, no bodies had to be buried in the middle of the night.

He makes a motion like his lips are sealed and waves me off as I slip back out into the cool night.

The air is crisp, carrying the soft scent of pine and something earthy.

Shadow trots beside me, head up, ears perked.

Occasionally, he darts off the path to investigate some rustle or frog splash, tail high, like he owns the entire estate.

I let him lead us straight to the lake. The moon is silver and full, hanging just low enough to cast a perfect reflection across the dark, still surface.

The stars scatter in clusters over the water, twinkling like they've been waiting just for me.

An owl hoots in the distance, and Shadow barks once, startled, then bounds after an invisible target before looping back to my side.

I walk slowly out onto the wooden pier. Each step creaks underfoot, strangely familiar after only a few days of living with the Sartoris.

When I reach the end of the dock, I stop to take in another deep breath.

The reflection of the sky sways slightly with the water, stars stretch and dance across the surface like a second world, just out of reach.

I cross my arms, staring down at it all. The silence wraps around me, a different kind of quiet than I've ever known before. Not the fearful, holding-your-breath kind. No, this is clean and safe. For a moment… I let myself believe that maybe this is real. That maybe I can be real here, too.

I close my eyes and pretend. That's when I hear the footsteps behind me.

Low, deliberate, and familiar. Even without Shadow's low growl, I would know who it is without turning.

He found me. And just like that, it seems that all the broken parts of me—the frayed edges, the empty spaces, the years of silence and shadow—slide quietly into place.

Like they were just waiting for him.

His arms wrap around me, and he pulls my back against his chest without a word. He's just there. I melt into his solid and warm hold without thinking, without questioning if I should.

His breath brushes the top of my head. "I missed you, Piccolina," he murmurs, and the words create a storm inside me. I close my eyes again, not to shut anything out this time, but to feel it more fully. To feel him.

The press of his body. The scent of him, cologne, leather, something spicy and darker that's just… him. The steady beat of his heart under my cheek is faster than I expected and matches mine. I'm afraid to speak, to break the spell.

He just holds me, arms locked tight around my waist like I'm something precious, something rare he can't risk losing.

For the first time in years… I feel like I belong in someone's arms. His hand moves slowly, brushing my hair back behind my ear.

I feel him lean down slightly, his lips are near my temple, his voice is low and close.

"What's wrong?" he murmurs.

I stiffen just slightly. Not enough to pull away, but enough that he notices. How does he do this? He's not even looking at me, but he seems to read me so easily.

"I can feel it," he adds, his voice quiet but insistent, proving what an open book I am to him. "What is it, Piccolina?"

I want to lie. I want to tell him I'm fine. That I'm just tired, that nothing is wrong. But the words get stuck in my throat. Instead, I hear myself whisper, "Dinner was… a lot."

He says nothing at first. He just listens. Like his sister, he's just there .

"I know I should be happy," I go on, staring down at the lake again.

"I am happy. They're here. They're safe.

I should be glowing, be in there with them, asking a thousand questions.

But all I could think about was how loud it was.

How many voices. How I couldn't remember falling into the pond like they said. How I didn't feel… like I belonged."

I pause. A pause he doesn't fill.

"I felt guilty," I admit, my voice even softer. "Like I'm broken for not being able to enjoy it."

"Overwhelmed," Enrico corrects quietly.

He gently turns me in his arms until I'm facing him. His dark eyes, lit by moonlight, look deeper than I can comprehend. There's no judgment there, only steady compassion. For a bad, bloodthirsty mafia boss, he seems to have a lot of it.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Cat," he assures me. "You've been surviving for years in captivity. Starved of touch. Of joy. Of noise that wasn't fear."

How does he know that? Incredibly gentle, his thumb strokes my cheek. "You don't unlearn that overnight. You just need time to relearn how to be around people. That's not a weakness."

A fresh tear slips down my cheek. He catches it with his thumb again, like it offends him.

"Don't apologize for healing," he adds.

I swallow hard, because my throat feels thick and choked. "How do you know what to say?"

"I don't," he murmurs. "But I know what it looks like to want to disappear."

My chest aches with an emotion too big to name. He leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead. It's neither demanding nor sexual; it just is.

I sigh and, for the second time in one night, I let myself believe I'm not alone anymore.